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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: Still Lifedots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: Runes
    Elite Ratio:    5.29 - 790/815/281
    Words: 203
    Class/Type: Misc/Misc
    Total Views: 630
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 1211



    Description:
       


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsStill Lifedots
    -------------------------------------------


    He dreams of shoes I threw away, the thigh gap
    I had yesterday, while I prefer his glasses and his gray.
    He worries about other men I slept with before I picked him,
    jealous of a shadow on the floor.

    I traded in my lipsticks, paints, for moisturizer and bare face,
    a ponytail behind the camera lens.
    I make his bed and cook him dinner, study over algorithms,
    while he complains my meatloaf tastes too dry.

    And despite all this normalcy, he still can't connect with me
    and I can't feel a damn thing anymore.
    I practice my photography and write a little poetry
    but even in my nightmares, I don't cry.

    If he died tomorrow night, I'd just stare at him awhile,
    pick up the phone and tell them he expired.
    I'd wear a black dress, place a rose, then go back to
    my day as though we never shared a moment of this life.

    I guess that's called growing up, or it could be getting tough,
    but I don't bother narrowing it down.
    If I can't frame it through a lens, or crop it to an 8x10,
    it bears no significance to me.




    Submitted on 2014-05-31 11:00:29     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      

    here are my heartbeats
    in digital print, moments
    captured for reflection
    where words eclipse me
    and memory becomes frail
    to temptations of grandeur

    my life in photographs, be still my beating heart

    When I frame and get the image just right, it's permanent. That moment, where I saw it and felt it...whatever it may be is mine. Can't be broken or lost or up or down or disappointed...it reflects,
    reflects the perfection I was seeking...always that connection to the moment and feeling are there.

    Not much of a comment I know...this one was difficult for me
    just some nutty shell from the peanut gallery

    Moi
    | Posted on 2014-06-03 00:00:00 | by clay | [ Reply to This ]
      Some people are just like that. You get that attachment and nothing else matters. I can be like that. my attachment will always be this and only this unless they seriously improve Braind Surgery techniques sometime soon. i guess the thing is it's who you are. some folks can't stay connected. you don't have that bite anymore. that kind of bite you use to have. i think that's growing up. but growing up, it's all subsequent to experience. we all grow up different. if there's nothing left with this one move on. some people can't find a lifelong parabond. it isn't in their genes. don't even bother feeling worry. be what you are and fuck all the convoluted guessing bullshit.
    | Posted on 2014-05-31 00:00:00 | by cornonthekob | [ Reply to This ]


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